Dustling
by Sephenia
Summary: The fate of the fateless.
1. Chapter 1

From the beginning, we were wrong. And only now, well into the second decade of the conflict, have we begun to understand the mistakes we have made. We lived in harmony among the Fae, in a world awakened to new magic. Perhaps we should have foreseen what might be born on this rising tide. What force might awaken. A force, powerful enough to twist even the eternal and immutable Fae folk. But Gadflow, the new king of the winter court, surprised us all. Singular among his people, he was everything other Fae were not: Aggressive, ambitious, visionary. He had power like none that we had ever seen. Terrible and deadly. Gadflow and his followers, the 'Tuatha Deohn,' believed that a new god was to be born in the east, beneath Gadflow's crystalline fortress of Amethyn. In the name of that god, they marched to war against the young races of Amalur. Against a mortal army, no matter the power of their god, we might have been victorious. But Fae are creatures of magic, not bound by the laws of life and death. Each Tuatha fallen on the battle field would soon rise again, for the Fae do not know death as we do. How could we stand against such a force? For ten years, the war raged. For ten years, the armies of men and Alfar fought and died. But as our numbers dwindled, we knew that it was only a matter of time. Our fate had been written. At least that is what we believed. Until you died...


	2. Chapter 2

The squeak of the cart wheels bounced of the smooth, stone-brick walls of the corridor as the gnome pushed it over the polished, grey tiles of the tower floor. The corridor was wide, supported by thick, smoothly carved pillars carefully constructed on either side along its length. High above, elaborate chandeliers hung, filtering soft light down on the scene below. The light wasn't strong as the chandeliers were more for decoration than lighting. Because of this, torches had been fastened to the wall, their bases carved into the likeness of a face and multicoloured, stained glass windows decorated the length of the corridor, illuminating the floor with a spectrum of purples and blues.

The gnome was short, as gnomes usually are, with silver hair where it hadn't completely disappeared, and unkempt grey muttonchops. Despite his lack of height, pushing the heavy cart proved to be no challenge for him. Beside him, a younger gnome walked, his hair a mess of short red strands with a large, distracting mustache taking up half his face. The younger carried a notepad. "What do you think this one is then?" The younger of the two said, gesturing to the mound beneath the brown, thatched sheet that lay un-moving on the cart, "Alfar? Varani? Could even be a Jottun!" He smiled at his grim faced companion, "Always a surprise eh, Guran?"

"Eyes on the job boy!" Guran snapped back, "Don't matter what it is, dead's dead. And be thankful for that Encel! All we've seen..." The grey haired gnome trailed off, swinging his faded eyes to look forward once more. "Go ahead and pull back the sheet though, It will need to be in our report, one way or the other."

Encel reached over with a gloved hand, pulling the brown sheet back and looking beneath. She was beautiful. With long, cascading scarlet hair that flowed un-contained over her shoulders , black, painted lips and fair, flawless skin. A black tattoo was inked across her face in an delicate, patterned design. Still pushing the cart, Guran tutted, "Looks like one of the Dokkalfar women." He said, his grey eyes scanning the body, "Held up pretty good too," He glanced up at Encel, "Al-right then, make sure it goes into the report. You know he'll want all the details."

It was a situation they had been in a thousand times before. The well of souls, the end of death itself. They should have known it was a dream that was too good to be true. But Hugues has persisted, always trying, even as they pulled corpse after lifeless corpse from the wells waters. When the body count rose too high to keep burying them in the forest surrounding the tower, he had simply designed a new wastage system. The bodies were ungracefully dumped in the caverns below the tower. Hugues had a vision and it seemed he would stop at nothing, despite the thousands of failures already feeding the flies in the caverns below. This would be the fate of the newest failure.

Encel nodded, pulling the sheet back over the body of the woman before scribbling down the information on his note pad. "Amazing how well the body held up," he muttered idly, still scribbling away at his notes, "Better than I've ever seen,"

Guran nodded in agreement, "Well I'm just glad its not moving," He grunted, earning a glance from Encel, "Must have been born under a lucky star, this one,"

"Is there any thing else we need?" Encel asked, raising his quill. Guran rolled his eyes, muttering something rude about young people and their questions under his breath. "Unless you'd like to name her," he snapped, glaring at the younger gnome, "I think we're done here. Lets put her with the others."

Encel grinned, scribbling one last thing down on his notes, glancing up to make certain Guran didn't notice. The older Gnome wasn't looking. This made the younger gnome grin wider.

Guran shoved the cart around the next corner along a path lit solely by torchlight and began towards the gaping black hole in the wall. Encel said nothing, still smiling. The older gnome came to a stop, pulling the cart to a halt Just before the two wheels disappeared into the gaping hole in the wall and tipped the cart, watching as the Dokkalfar woman's body and the sheet disappeared into the darkness of the cavern below.. "Well," Encel said in his over enthusiastic way,still looking into the empty darkness where the bod y had disappeared, "That's it for you then. Better luck next time!" This earned him a withering look from Guran. "What?" the younger gnome cried, "No harm in it."

Guran glared at him. "In this place," he snapped, "She might just get a next time."


	3. Awakening

It was the smell she noticed first. The suffocating reek that seemed to blocked out every other sense. Slowly, as her consciousness returned, Katianne became aware of more and more. The slimy, wet surface below her, the aches and pains plaguing her entire body and the deafening hum of what sounded like millions upon millions of... flies.

Her crimson eyes flicked open and she looked sluggishly around her. At first, everything was a mixture of blurry shapes and dull colours, but as her vision adapted to the light, she found herself looking into the half decayed eyes of a malformed creature. Panic ripped through her and she tried to wriggle back, only to find her path blocked. Frantic, the turned her head, meeting another gruesome sight. They were everywhere. Above her, beneath her, beside her, covered by billions of flies as they fed upon the rotting flesh. Corpses in various stages of decay. Her breathing quickened into short, sharp gasps as she struggled to push away a massive dead body from above her. At first, it wouldn't budge, but finally, the thing rolled, tumbling down the pile of bodies she was on to land in the darkness somewhere below with a sickening, wet thud.

Finally ably to move, Katianne scrambled out of the tight space between the bodies where she had been previously wedged. Her feet squelched at she stepped on some of the older bodies. She reached back, leaning on a corpse behind her as she yanked her foot from where it had sunken into the mouth of a corpse. Her fingers found the eye socket of another and she gave up on balancing, instead focusing on trying to get down from the reeking pile and as far away from it as possible.

Finally freeing her foot, she made an awkward jump, landing heavily on the rib-cage of a man further below. She jumped again, landing slightly off balance with both her feet landing on separate corpses. She stumbled slightly, causing her to step back, completely crushing the skull of a figure, too twisted with decay to recognize, directly behind her. Cold brain matter, splattered up her leg, splashing her already blood soaked and rot stained pants. She jumped again, this time landing with both feet on the cold, damp stone of the cavern. her foot slipped on the moisture as she landed, causing one leg to slide from underneath her, and she stumbled forward, her knee crashing into the ground and forcing her to crouch awkwardly on the wet stones. The palm of her hand rested on the slick stones and her elbow pressed into her leg.

Bile rose in her throat and she coughed, leaning forward and vomiting onto the stones, some seeping into her pants. She struggled to take a breath, fighting off the nausea that held here pinned to the ground, retching and gagging. The smell wasn't helping and neither were the flies. Tears burned her eyes and she crawled forward, barely able to see much more than the faint blurs of colour that danced just in front of her vision. Her throat burned with a bitter taste and she spat on the floor, attempting again to stand. Not willing to turn back, she stumbled forward, her knee throbbing with each step. Below her feet, the fragments of bones littering the floor cut into the soft skin of her feet, sending sharp pain through her legs. She glance up, looking to where the stone path was leading her. A set of stairs, carved into the natural stone of the cavern lay just ahead, bathed in the flickering light of two torches.

The stone path was narrower than she had thought, only a few meters wide with drops that plummeted into the darkness of somewhere far below. A dizzy feeling came over her and she was suddenly aware of a fear of heights she never had. With a gulp, she staggered forward, finally making it to the stairs. She sat down with a thud, her eyes shut, her hands pressed over her face as she tried to steady her gasping breath. 'Okay,' she thought, trying to make sense of the situation, 'I'm in a cavern, surrounded by dead bodies. They look as though they have been dead for a while. There is, or at least was, some kind of life here once, or else the torches wouldn't be lit and the stairs wouldn't be carved.'

Finally, she gathered the courage to look up. The rotting pile lay just ahead, corpses strewn on top of one another. A few had been crushed by her desperate attempt to get down. Nausea stirred in her stomach again and she looked away, finally noticing the rest of the cavern. There were more piles, just like the one she had been on, masses of bodies collected in heaps and covered by writhing maggots. The torch light only lit up the closest one, the others were lit by the blue glow coming from shafts of light, that filtered down through cracks in the ceiling of the cavern. The light illuminated the rushing waterfalls that emptied from the roof of the cavern to disappear into the gloom. In the faint light, the silhouettes of what Katianne decided must be bats could be seen, their shadowed bodies gliding around the stalactites hanging down.

Turning around, Katianne studied the warmly lit area behind her. Above the stair case was a desk, on which a wax sealed note sat. 'It might be a clue as to how to get out of here, or at least why I'm here.' she thought, dragging herself up and limping up the stairs. The desk was made from a fine wood. Middle brown in colour and sturdy in structure. A clutter of things were sprawled across it. The chaotic mess was lit up by three small, wax candles that burned as brightly as if they had been only recently lit.

From the desk, Katianne plucked the note, breaking the red wax seal and unfurling the parchment. It was old looking. The parchment was ripped at the edges and age had browned it. Katianne frowned. That didn't make sense. Looking for an answer, she began to read.

Secrecy is still important in our work, requiring specialized disposal of our unfortunate failures.

A cold feeling swept through Katianne and she glanced up, sweeping her crimson gaze around the cavern, looking at the piles of corpses. She shuddered, then continued to read.

Piling remains have become a concern in the lower caverns, so an incinerator has been added to deal with the wastes. This should make disposal slightly less horrible, although you should avoid drinking water from downstream of the ash dumps. Hardly a fitting rest for the poor things, but if it's any consolation, these weren't their original bodies in the first place.

It was signed 'Fomorous Hugues'

Katianne stared down at the note in her hands, horror creeping through her, numbing her senses. Unfortunate failures? Piling remains? What the hell was going on here?


	4. From the darkness

Chapter 3 - From the Darkness

It was a while before she noticed the door. Splintered and broken in some places with the skeleton of a man impaled on a rusty sword leaning against it. When finally she drew her eyes away from the note, she saw it, glowing in the light of the incinerator. A million emotions ran through her. Fear. What if the door lead to more piles of bodies. Relief. Maybe it was a way out. Anger. What kind of sick, twisted monster was this 'Fomorous Hugues' anyway.

Taking shaky steps, Katianne made her way to the door, her eyes examining it for any threat. So far so good, she thought as she came to stand in front of the door. After a brief pause, she shoved the door. It didn't budge. For a second, disappointment (and a slight bit of panic) filled her. She shoved the door again. Still, It didn't move but this time Katianne noticed the dull scraping sound that the door had made as she shoved it. She looked down. The sword! Of reached down, wrapping her hand around the rusted hilt of the sword and tugged it out. The skeleton crumbled to the ground and, as she had predicted, the door swung soundlessly open. She smiled, letting the blade fall to the ground with a clatter, and peered into the darkness beyond the door. It was a narrow corridor, completely made from stone. The walls were rough, as though the tunnel had been carved by hand. Fastened to the wall of the corridor was a torch, burning brightly, illuminating the stone around it.

Stepping over the skeleton, she walked, half crouching, into the gloom. Even though a torch burned fiercely just a few meters ahead, it seemed the light didn't reach down this far. Her ears were pricked for any kind of noise as some instinct stirred within her, telling her to keep low and quiet. Just as she reached the torch light, a loud, fearful shrill of a woman echoed through the stone, "They're all over!"The echo cried. "Run!"

Katianne felt her whole body tense and she dropped into a defensive crouch, her knee throbbed in protest. With small movements, she eased herself around the corner. Just around the bend, three short figures ran across a wooden walkway, followed by a fourth who was wielding a sword and stood at double their height. Suddenly, one of the short figures tripped, sprawling across the ground. The tall one caught up, and shoved his boot down hard on the figure's back. She screamed, trying to wriggle out from underneath him. With a strong, fluid motion, he brought the sword down. Katianne flinched, ducking back around the corner. "Scatter, children of dust!" she heard the man yell as his footsteps echoed around the stone walls, "Scatter before the might of the Tuatha!"

The footsteps slowly faded and Katianne sat in the silence that followed, her heart hammering in her chest. Seconds passed, slowly turning to minutes. Finally she stood, creeping slowly back to the rusted sword she had just moments before abandoned, the image of the tall, dark figure burning in her mind. She snatched the sword up, her knuckles turning white as she gripped the hilt. There was no way she was walking out of here without a weapon. Not now. Not after that. The woman had said 'they were all over'. Katianne gripped the sword impossibly tighter. So they were everywhere, the monstrous beasts. The cold blooded murderers. The Tuatha.


	5. Into the light

Chapter 4 - Into the light

Katianne crept forward, alone in the dust and the dark, feeling watched at every turn. Her ears were straining, her eyes were wide, her knee throbbed, and the sword she carried grew heavier with each second. She heard the sounds of a desperate combat before she saw it. A gnomish man, sword raised for combat, launched himself at a Tuatha soldier. She was too far away to help, to far to do anything. Katianne flinched, waiting for the man to meet the same fate as the woman before. However the Tuatha stumbled under the power of the gnomes hit. The short man attacked again and again, his sword flashing with impressive speed as the Tuatha desperately tried to defend himself. For a second, It seemed the Gnome would win, but the Tuatha was persistent also. As the gnome turned, running in for another strike, the Tuatha dodged, raising his sword as he did. The Gnome had no chance do dodge as the ebony sword rammed its way through his gut, sending scarlet droplets flying.

Katianne slunk back into the shadows, feeling a coward as she quietly fled the scene, praying the Tuatha had not noticed the ragged figure in the stone passageway bellow his wooden battle field. The corridor lead her to a room with a high ceiling and great chains coming from the roof to disappear somewhere below the floor. Massive gears turned, the grinding sound deafening as Katianne made a quick limp to the door way on the opposite side of the room.

As she reached the door, a curse word slipped from her tongue. The ground had been gradually rising ever since she had started walking, now it dropped sharply, leading down to a small, stone room where two, red eyed, monstrous, over grown rats gnawed away the flesh of two gnomes that had fallen to the Tuatha. Katianne swore again, looking at their bloated bodies. She glanced down at the rusted sword in her hand. She was out numbered, but she had a sharp thing.

Gripping the rusted hilt tightly, she took a breath. There had been no other path ways along the corridor that she had seen, and she didn't fancy going back and risking a standoff with a Tuatha. She had a much better chance against this vermin than the other vermin anyway. She took another breath. Even though she had justified her reasoning, the sight of the bodies brought to her mind the memory of the woman's dying scream and the decay surrounding her in the cavern beyond the door. She needed to get away from this place of death.

She looked at the rat. Its mottled, grey brown fur streaked with the gore of its feast, its blood red eyes locked on the meal below it, its yellow teeth gnawing away at the gnomes body. It was the closer of the two rats. It sat, almost with an air of confidence as it devoured its meal, completely un aware of Katianne as she crept ever closer, clutching the rusted sword impossibly tight.

The rat suddenly mover, its black claws grating across the stone of the floor and its rope like tail dragging behind it. Katianne froze, watching intently as it moved, better positioning itself on a piece of the gnome with more flesh attached to it still. Katianne found herself hating every god and Goddess that existed when the rat finally stopped. It was facing exactly the direction she was in. The tiniest movement would alert the twisted creature of her presence and then it would attack her and sharp things be damned, there was no way she was going anywhere near the business end of that thing. Its teeth looked like the resurrection of infection itself.

The rat suddenly stopped eating, looking up suspiciously at the dark blur in its vision that was Katianne. It sniffed experimentally, taking a few steps towards her, still not completely convinced that naught but darkness lay in the blind spaces outside of its vision. The other rat had yet to notice anything wrong, still messily gobbling up the face of its victim. It slightly turned its back on the scene, remaining unaware of the danger that lurked.

Katianne forgave the Gods and Goddesses, sending a silent prayer of thanks. Gripping the sword in her hands, she threw herself forward, not giving the rat any time to react before the blade of her sword, dulled by old age but still sharp enough, found its way into the creatures chest, sending a spray of scarlet blood across the stones of the floor. The second rat squeaked, momentarily scrambling away from Katianne as its companion fell.

The creature fixed a beady-eyed glare on the Dokkalfar who had dared to come too close, who had dared to pose a challenge to it. It squeaked in rage, lunging forward with its yellow fangs bared, black claws outstretched. Katianne easily dodged, striking down as the rat hurtled past her. The blade came down between its shoulders, hitting it with the flat of the sword. The rat was momentarily stunned and Katianne wasted not a second, spinning the blade in her hand and stabbing it down through the rat.

Just like the Tuatha did to that woman...

Katianne shook of the cold thought, hurrying away from the dead bodies and coming to stand still at the stone archway door that lead into the torch lit corridor beyond the room. Her heart beat abnormally quick and a faint flutter of fear and guilt in her stomach. But why should she be guilty? They were just rats after all. Disgusting vermin feeding on the dead. So, didn't that make it justice?

She was so caught up in her racing thoughts that she nearly missed the voice when it came. Deep and cold, echoing across the stones from an un known place. "Stay away," it said, vanishing into the echos as quickly as it appeared. Katianne froze, looking about her in a paranoid fashion, waiting for a Tuatha soldier to be the next thing to come charging at her from around a corner. The voice returned again, louder and more menacing. "No child of dust shall escape."  
Tuatha.


End file.
